


Ring

by Thraesja



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Offworld Shenanigans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-14
Updated: 2014-07-14
Packaged: 2018-02-08 21:02:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1956039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thraesja/pseuds/Thraesja
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which math fails to save Sam from ogling Daniel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ring

**Author's Note:**

> Written for prompt challenge: Sam/Daniel, Ring. Unbetaed.

Sam’s pretty sure if the music doesn't end soon, she’s going to spontaneously combust.   
  
The play of muscle, the half-nakedness, the gyrating...God, the gyrating. And the lascivious thoughts running rampant in her skull. Can't forget those. No matter how very, very inappropriate they are.   
  
The men of P28-117 are performing a ritual dance. Something about thanking the spirits for their continuing strength and vitality. A symbol of masculinity, Daniel said. Nothing sexual about it. Just male pride on display.   
  
Nothing sexual. Nope. Nada. That's why Sam’s busy trying to calculate the 23rd decimal of pi (using Machin’s method) in her head. She’s always used math to distract herself; to calm her nerves and still her hands before a fight, to survive pain like that bastard Turghan had inflicted, to avoid potentially career-ending backtalk to ‘superior’ officers like General Bauer. It normally serves her very well indeed.  
  
It’s failing miserably this time.   
  
Being male, Daniel was asked to join the dancing. He tried to demur, but the headwoman insisted he needed to renew his strength after his long journey. Explanations that using the stargate isn't particularly strenuous fell on deaf ears, and in the interests of keeping enough goodwill not to mar the thus far successful negotiations, he finally agreed.  
  
And now that Daniel has joined the ring--stripping off the top half of his uniform in the process—Sam’s pretty sure the woman's insistence has less to do with Daniel's abstract amount of strength and more to do with seeing his body put on display. Not that Sam can blame her. It’s a very, very nice body. Very solid and sculpted and smooth and—  
  
God, what is wrong with her? She shouldn't be looking. Not ogling him, anyway. She’s seen him half-dressed before. Hell, she’s seen him in substantially less than that, though never when she wasn’t simultaneously trying to keep him alive, she supposes. And it has definitely never sent warm throbs pulsing through her more tender anatomical regions before.  
  
She tries to focus on the other dancers in the circle. Large, strong, attractive men, every one of them. More than worthy of being ogled, and more than used to it too, judging by the appreciative females cat-calling from the sidelines. Yet Sam’s eyes are continuously being drawn to Daniel.  
  
The ring is circling faster now. Daniel’s getting the hang of the rhythm, no longer clumsily imitating the others so much as flowing around the fire with them, leaping when they leap, stamping in time and on form. His skin is beginning to shine with the sweat of his exertions, and Sam’s struck with the sudden urge to lick her way down his heaving chest, across that rippled belly and lower until—  
  
She has to get out of there. Right this second.  
  
With a nod to excuse herself to the headwoman (which is returned with a vague wave and a distinct lack of eye contact), she heads into the forest a ways to breathe. Not as far as she would like, she can still clearly hear the music and the grunts of the dancing men--she can’t in good conscience leave Daniel all alone with them, no matter how benign they seem—but far enough to cool down.   
  
In theory, anyway. She crouches down to rest, but her mind’s eye can still see him, firelight reflecting off his glasses (and his skin!), hiding his eyes from her though his grin is enough to tell her he’s having fun. And that alone is more than worth her discomfort, isn’t it? How often has she seen Daniel really kick back and have fun?  
  
She has the insanely irrational urge to jump him on the way back to the gate and find out what other things he might find fun.  
  
She’s so distracted she doesn’t hear the figure approaching until a twig snaps right behind her. Then she swivels around, P-90 coming to bear as she rises to her feet.  
  
“Whoa,” Daniel says, spreading his hands. “It’s just me.”  
  
She lowers her weapon and tries not to stare. “Sorry.”  
  
His chest is still heaving, still gleaming with sweat, visible even in the dimmer light of the moons slanting through the trees. She’s thankful she’s still wearing her tac vest, because her nipples are hardening with his proximity.  
  
Daniel glances back to the festivities and then turns concerned eyes onto her. “You okay?”  
  
“Mmm hmm,” she says, utterly failing to bring her gaze back to his face in time to avoid embarrassment. She feels her cheeks flush and Daniel’s facial expression turns from concern to surprise to something she can’t quite identify. There has to be some way to salvage this situation. “Um—”  
  
“Sam?” he asks, and to her dismay steps closer. God, now she can smell him and it’s doing incredible things to a libido that up until half an hour ago she hadn’t been sure she still possessed. He brings a hand up and runs the backs of his fingers down her cheek. She’s defenceless under his gaze, despite holding an automatic weapon. It’s like he can see right through her. But then, she supposes, he almost always has.  
  
His hand turns and he cups her jaw in his palm, curling his fingers into the hair behind her ear. His thumb traces the line of her bottom lip. “Can I kiss you?” He smiles lopsidedly. “I’m pretty sure you want me to.”  
  
They’re on duty and off world. The answer, she knows, should be no. And that’s if she forgets for a moment how close they already are. He’s her teammate and her friend and this should feel ten different kinds of wrong, but she’s just been fantasizing about doing all kinds of much, much dirtier things to him, and she can’t for the life of her summon the will to deny it.  
  
So she nods instead. Daniel sucks in a sharp breath—she guesses he wasn’t as sure as he let on—and then leans into her. His lips brush hers once, twice, before the pressure increases into a full-fledged kiss. A few seconds later, his tongue brushes her lip and she’s more than happy to open to him.   
  
She’s not sure how long it lasts. Daniel’s a better kisser than she’d have expected (if she’d ever given it much thought), but it’s enough time that when she stops gather her wits her weapon is hanging from its clips on her vest and her hands are running over Daniel’s shoulders and through his hair. He nips at her mouth one last time and pulls back, resting his forehead against hers. “We should probably save this until we’re safely back home.”  
  
Sam’s glad one of them has some control. She nods her agreement and summons up some more math to distract her.   
  
It works about as well as last time.  
  
She waits as Daniel makes their farewells and thank yous to the head woman and the villagers, promising to return in a few days with a more formalized treaty. Sam’s thinking she’ll arrange for another team to return, if possible. The headwoman looks like she wants to eat Daniel alive.  
  
Again, not that Sam can blame her.  
  
The ring has broken up now; the men are resting and being brought refreshments by the women. Judging from the flushed female faces and several of the men unsubtley eyeing each other up, she thinks everyone else realizes what a crock the whole ‘nothing sexual about it’ line is too.   
  
Daniel pulls his shirts and vest back on as they walk away. Half of her is disappointed, but the other half realizes she needs the time to settle herself before they have to go through the debrief with the General. She can’t help the giggle that escapes her, though. “So, feeling stronger and more vital?”  
  
He glances sideways at her, smiling that lopsided grin again. His gaze travels down her form and back up. “Oh, yeah. You could say that.”  
  
She has no idea what possesses her to say what pops out of her mouth next. “Still going to claim there’s no virility component to that dance?”  
  
Okay. So it’s not like she has no idea. Just no idea why her normally thorough internal sensor doesn’t catch it. Her math is clearly failing her yet again.   
  
But Daniel’s not offended. “I may have mistranslated there.” His grin widens. “Going to hold it against me?”  
  
This time Sam doesn’t even try. “Not until we get home.”  
  
 **END**

**Author's Note:**

> The throwaway line _"She’s seen him half-dressed before. Hell, she’s seen him in substantially less than that, though never when she wasn’t simultaneously trying to keep him alive, she supposes"_ in this fic also spawned a gen ficlet, which if you're interested can be found [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1904529).


End file.
